


Fibrosis

by Littlecupofmocha



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Cuddling, F/M, Guilt, Natasha is the best, Panic Attacks, Post Civil War, Remorse, Spooning, a cocktail of bad, at least long enough for everyone to calm down a bit, bad memories, bucky is struggling a bit, buckynat - Freeform, heck yeah, nice sweet ending though, poor bucky he's hurting, reassurance and love, some descriptions of violence and panic attacks but not too detailed, steve is a great bro as always, wayyyyyy after, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlecupofmocha/pseuds/Littlecupofmocha
Summary: After a rough day, Bucky and Natasha are spending a quiet night together in Bucky's apartment when he asks Natasha about one of her scars. She has told the others' stories, but she is reluctant in explaining this one.





	1. Chapter 1

Steve had asked Bucky first thing Saturday morning if he wanted to go on a morning run with him. Normally, Bucky would have been more than happy to exercise with Steve. It was always nice to get outside and run because you wanted to, not because someone was throwing hand grenades in your direction. But when Steve called Bucky’s cell phone at 4:18 a.m., asking if he would be ready by 4:30, Bucky had no energy to explain to Steve that running at 5 a.m. was too early, even for a super-soldier. Besides, Bucky had only just fallen asleep a little after 2:00. There was no way he could run Steve’s 15 mile route on less than two and a half hours of sleep. Well, perhaps he could, but he certainly didn’t want to. Leaving Steve with little other than, “Bud, I just went to bed,” Bucky ended the call and placed his phone back on his nightstand.

 

Bucky nestled back into the position he had been in before Steve’s call woke him and tried to go back to sleep. He supposed he had been a little rude to his friend, but he hadn’t slept well in two weeks, and, as a result, had been constantly tired. Meetings at Stark tower the past week with the other Avengers had gone pretty terribly too. On Tuesday, Bucky had not been able to stop yawning even with the help of ice water and gum; Tony Stark actually stopped talking about whatever project he was prattling on about and glared at him. Their relationship was still tentative.

 

But it was the nightmares that wouldn’t let him sleep. Bucky couldn’t stop them. Most were of missions he had carried out while brainwashed, the victims cowering before him and flashes of fights with knives and explosives. Others were of moments of scrutiny and prodding by the H.Y.D.R.A. scientists who did who knows what to the 107th during the war. It amused and surprised Bucky that he still remembered specific moments from the experimentation, given that he knew he'd been delirious for most of it. 

 

Now, Bucky lay in his bed, unmoving, trying his best to focus on anything but the past. Of course, the more he tried to push his thoughts away, the more persistent they became. He climbed begrudgingly out of bed and walked the short distance towards the kitchen, around a corner, through a doorway, and onto the cold black tiling. He flipped the lights on and squinted. Too bright. He covered his eyes with his hand, and, once his eyes were somewhat adjusted, walked further into the kitchen, paying extra attention to his surroundings, trying to break the cycle of bad thoughts. Spatula lying out of its pitcher, coffee machine light blinking--it was low on water, nightlight shining from its place above the main countertop. He stood still, trying to think of something he could do to relax. He couldn't. Instead, he stared at the clock above the stove showing ‘4:31’ in its bright green lights. He was tired. So, so tired. 

 

Annoyed and exhausted, Bucky turned the lights off and left the kitchen. He walked slowly back to his bedroom and climbed back into bed, pulling his sheets and blankets over him as he laid his head back down on his pillow. It wasn't comfortable. For some reason, the longer you tried to go to sleep, the stiffer your pillow always felt. 

 

After about 10 minutes of staring at his dark ceiling, Bucky reached for his phone the second time that morning and found his go-to sleep aid, rain sounds. It helped. The repetitious sound of water hitting pavement, combined with only slightly booming thunder, relaxed him, and he was finally able to clear his mind enough to fall asleep. 

 

  ~*~

Steve came in at 7:30. 

Bucky, always the light sleeper, heard him fiddling with the lock. He could never open the door to Bucky’s apartment on the first try. 

 

After Steve finally got the door open, he moved more quietly. Bucky could barely hear his footfalls as he walked into the house. He did hear something rustle, though. Plastic. Steve had brought something in a bag. 

 

Bucky decided Steve could wait a bit longer for him, as there were no plans for today. At least, none of which he knew. So he left Steve to his own devices and went back to sleep. 

 

It was only about 40 minutes more that Bucky slept. For whatever reason, despite being drained of energy, his body decided to wake up. Deciding it was best to just give into his sleeplessness, Bucky got up, washed his face, dressed, and opened his bedroom door to find Steve standing right in front of it, hand in the air, ready to knock. And of course, ever the morning person, Steve had a huge smile plastered across his face as he said, “Morning, Buck!”

 

Bucky only half-grunted in response and walked past Steve to the kitchen. He smelled coffee brewing and saw on the table a brown, paper box inside a white, plastic bag. 

 

He walked over to the table and opened the box. Inside were bagels. Plain, cinnamon raisin, and blueberry, Bucky's favorite. 

 

Bucky frowned, feeling guilty for being rude to Steve earlier on the phone and not even mustering up the energy to give him a ‘Good morning.’ He called out to him in an attempt to make amends. 

 

“Hey, blueberry! My favorite. Thanks, bud.”

 

Bucky began walking towards his refrigerator to look for some kind of spread when Steve replied. 

 

“You're welcome, Buck. Also, cream cheese is in the fridge.”

 

_ Of course he bought that too.  _

 

So it seemed Steve had thought of everything. There was even a bottle of orange juice in his fridge that he didn’t remember buying. Guilt ate at Bucky.

 

“Steve, thanks, but you didn’t need to do this.”

 

“Well, I thought you could use some proper breakfast food for once. Plus, I ended my run next to the store.”

 

Bucky said nothing, accepting Steve’s generosity with silence. The two men sat, unspeaking, at the kitchen table, each eating his own favorite bagel--Steve always liked plain best--while browsing the local newspaper absentmindedly. 

 

Fifteen minutes passed before Steve pushed his chair away from the table. He stretched and spoke quietly. 

 

“Well, I’ve gotta go. Meeting with Tony and the others at noon.”

 

“Isn’t that four hours from now?”

 

“You want me to stay a little longer?”

 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to. Just wonderin’ why you’d leave so early.”

 

“Just to be prepared.”

 

“...It’s Sharon, isn’t it.”

 

“What? No, she has no part in this. I mean, she’ll be at the meeting, but she has nothing to do with me l-”

 

Steve stopped talking when he noticed Bucky smirking at him. His cheeks became a faint pink, and he looked down at the floor, taking immense interest in the white grout between the black tiles.

 

Bucky, meanwhile, couldn’t suppress his smile. “You trying to impress her?”

 

Steve smiled shyly. “Maybe.”

 

“Well, she is cute. I’m sure she’s just as smitten with you as you are with her.”

 

“I’m not smitten! I’m...okay. A little.”

 

Bucky stood up from the table and walked over to the sink, setting his plate and knife in it. “You should go shower. Although, pheromones _are_ released from male sweat, so maybe you should run a couple more laps before you go in.”

“Buck! Don’t be like that.”

 

“Just sayin’. Might move things along a little faster.”

 

Bucky raised his eyebrows suggestively as Steve threw him a look.

 

“Relax, bud, I’m kidding.”

 

Leaning back against the counter, Bucky asked Steve why he hadn’t heard word of Tony’s meeting. Steve’s face immediately lost its relaxed look as he answered Bucky hesitantly.

 

“Well, um, I uh, I guess nothing we’re discussing will be of any use to you. It’s about some upcoming mission with just a few of us.”

 

Bucky didn’t buy the lie.

 

“‘A few of you meaning the-whole-team-minus-me, right? Yeah, Tony still hates me.”

 

Steve frowned, not bothering to challenge Bucky’s statement. 

 

“Well, you’ll be back at the tower soon, anyway. Now, I gotta go shower. I’m not even sure what to wear. What do you wear to impress a girl?”

 

Bucky laughed, “How should I know? Haven’t been on a date since 1943, pal.”

 

With a smile, Steve hugged Bucky quickly, who hugged back, and grabbed another bagel from the table before walking briskly towards the door. Bucky called out after him.

 

“Hey, Steve! Text me about it later!”

 

Steve replied with a “Will do!” before shutting the door.

 

~*~

 

It was now 8:45, and Bucky was alone with nothing to do. He cleaned up his kitchen a bit, putting the excess bagels away in a sealed plastic bag, and he washed the few dishes and cutlery pieces that were dirty before putting them back in their respective cupboards and drawers.

 

Afterwards, he crashed on his couch in his living room and turned on the tv, flipping through channel after channel after he finally settled on the Food Network and some baking competition show.

 

After watching some children make and decorate elaborate cupcakes, which made him feel incredibly inadequate regarding his baking skills, he fell asleep. 

  
  


He woke up about two hours later. His apartment was quiet, too quiet for Bucky’s liking, so he got up and went back to his bedroom. It was time to tidy up.

 

However, because Bucky was never a messy person, all he needed to do was make his bed and straighten a few things on his nightstand. After 10 minutes, he was, once again, without anything to do. 

 

He contemplated trying to sleep again, as he still felt exhausted, but he threw that idea out the window once he remembered that sleeping throughout the day would only lead to another sleepless night, and he was sick of those.

 

He decided to go out. 

 

This was a big deal for Bucky. He never really went out in public, especially alone, but he needed something to do until the evening, so he walked to the nearest bus stop and caught a ride into DC, where he browsed some stores in the mall--awkwardly avoiding the ever-present store employees that couldn’t seem to understand he really didn’t need any assistance--only to end up gravitating to a bookstore.

 

Bucky loved books. Being surrounded by so many brought back memories from his childhood, when he would sit in front of his mother’s bookshelf and stare at the colorful book spines, observing their various sizes and textures before selecting one to read. At school he borrowed history books and science books from his teachers. He especially loved books about biology. He remembered wanting to grow up and become a scientist or doctor; he had wanted to discover cures for polio, pneumonia, and other terrible diseases, to help people like President Roosevelt and Steve. Too bad that plan didn’t work out. 

 

After walking around the store for some time he had picked up two books to buy, both of them classic novels he was told he had missed out on. He made his way to a small section separated from the others displaying newer books, those that were at the top of the bestseller lists. As he was browsing over them, his eye caught his own image. 

 

Well, part of his image, anyway. His left arm to be exact. The cover of this book displayed the Winter Soldier’s metal arm, complete with bright red star, crushing the White House, his fist balled up and pressing down on the building, squashing it. The book was titled  _ Soviet Subversion of America Today _ . Near the bottom of the cover, just above the author’s name, was the sentence “We should have listened to McCarthy.”

 

Bucky’s stomach flipped and he felt his chest tighten. He had to leave. Now. As fast as he could, Bucky put the books he had selected back on their respective shelves and left the store. Once outside, he found a quiet, scarcely-used walkway between two stores. He sat on a convenient bench and tried to breathe. 

 

This kept happening. The world apparently couldn’t forget about him, the Winter Soldier. His story was too widely told; the tale of the selfless war hero turned HYDRA assassin was now a history lesson. And although he had not been charged with any crimes, largely because of his friends’ influence and his agreement to fight with the Avengers, the media couldn’t get enough of him, which meant there was continual coverage of his every public appearance. 

 

Whenever he went out, Bucky always wore a hood or a hat. Sometimes both. He never let any part of his metal arm show, and he hid his left hand by wearing gloves. Of course, this drew unwanted attention during the warmer months, but not having everyone around him whip out their phones to videotape him made the discomfort and awkward stares bearable. 

 

On the bench, Bucky tried some breathing exercises Sam had taught him. After much practice, Bucky had finally mastered the mental aspect of the exercise he discovered he had to have if the technique was to work. 

 

_ Calm down. You’re alright. No one saw you. You’re safe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. _

  
After several minutes of cyclic breathing, the fluttery feeling in Bucky’s chest began to fade significantly. He stood up from the bench and started to walk in the direction of the bus stop he had gotten off at earlier. He’d had enough of the mall; it was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Buckynat fic (though I have plenty more planned). I hope you've enjoyed it so far, and if you have, please leave a kudos and/or comments! They are always appreciated, as are opinions and criticisms. Thank you for reading! Chapter 2 will be up in the next few days. I promise, Natasha will be in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this update is bordering on more than a "few days." Sorry about that.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter all the same!  
> And yes, there is a bed scene coming up. (No smut, though. I don't write smut.)
> 
> Next chapter will be filled with bedroom action (sensual, but not explicitly sexual) and angst. An odd combination, but hey, it's Bucky and Natasha. 
> 
> As always, please leave comments! Hopefully, I won't keep you waiting for chapter 3 for too long.  
> Thanks for reading!

_ What a typical afternoon.  _

 

How come all the days he had off always turned out to be busts? Why couldn’t he sleep? Why would the world never let him alone?

 

Bucky unlocked the door to his apartment, entered and went into the kitchen, put his wallet and phone on the table, and stared at the clock above the oven. ‘2:17’ flashed in green.  _ A waste of a day. _

 

He thought about taking a walk outside, but he had walked a considerable amount earlier, to bus stops and throughout the mall. He wasn’t tired, physically, at least, but he ended up sitting at the table anyway and flipping through the junk mail Steve had brought in that morning. 

 

Then, breaking the silence, there came the sound of a pleasant piano melody from Bucky’s cell phone. The screen, now lit up, displayed a name and a picture. It was Natasha. Bucky answered the call, grateful for conversation. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, Barnes. What’s up?”

 

“Uh, nothing much. Do you need something?”

 

“No, just seeing if you want to do something later. I’m finally out of that awful meeting with Stark.”

 

“Oh, yeah, Steve was talking about it this morning. How bad was it?”

 

“Oh, you know, it was a typical Tony Meeting. We got lectured to about being on our best behavior and following all these new safety measures. He keeps hanging the Sokovia Accords over our heads.”

 

Bucky smirked. “Sounds like I missed out on so much fun. Bummer.”

 

“Ha ha, Barnes.” Then, Natasha sighed. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle these meetings. Especially when they’re as long as they are.”

 

“What if you just don’t show up?”

 

“I tried going late once. Vision found me and literally projected my image to Stark. Tony saw me lounging on my couch eating ice cream and watching tv. When I got to the tower, he made me wait outside for 15 minutes in the heat before he “realized” I had finally arrived.

 

“Yeah, he’s not passive aggressive at all, is he.”

 

“He’s the most passive aggressive person I know. When he’s not being blatant about things. You know, honestly, everything that comes out of his mouth is usually just  _ dripping  _ with sarcasm.”

 

Silence fell between the two as they both pondered why Tony was always….well, why he was the way he was. 

 

Natasha picked up the conversation again. “Alright, enough talk about Stark. I called to see if you want to do something tonight. There’s this new Italian place in town. Sam said he went there on a date, and it was  _ really  _ good. He had the mezzaluna, I think.”

 

_ Oh, no no no. I’m done with the world today.  _

 

Bucky began to stammer out a polite refusal. “That sounds nice, but I’m...I’m not really-”

 

“Not feeling up to it?” Natasha asked, interrupting him quietly. “That’s fine. I’ll order it to-go and bring it over. How does that sound?”

 

_ Oh, thank God.  _

 

“Uh, good.”

 

“Okay, what do you want?”

 

“Umm, anything’s fine, really.”

 

“I can send you the menu so you can look over it. Then just text me what you want.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’ll bring it over by 6:30, then?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright, I’ll text you a link to the restaurant’s online menu after we hang up.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem. See you soon.”

 

“See ya.”

 

Bucky waited for Nat to hang up first. He supposed part of him didn’t want the conversation to end; it had been such a welcome distraction from everything that had happened earlier.

 

True to her word, Natasha texted Bucky a link to the restaurant’s website. The eatery’s name was Twist, and, given the image of a fork on the logo, Bucky assumed it was a reference to a certain way of eating spaghetti. 

 

He found the menu easily and read through it twice before realizing he didn’t know what to choose. Not wanting to make Natasha wait for his choice, Bucky decided on the mezzaluna. If Sam liked it, he would too. 

 

After texting Natasha, he checked the time again. It was 3 o’clock. Bucky walked around his apartment to see if it was clean enough for later. After neatly folding a blanket and placing it in its proper place on the back of his couch, he opened up a book he had been trying to get through. It would help pass the time.

 

~*~

 

After 3 very boring, lonely hours, Bucky received a message from Natasha:  _ On my way. _

 

Bucky wasn’t surprised she was going to be early. If anything, he was a little annoyed at himself for forgetting she typically showed up early to most events, whether it be a meeting, rendezvous point, or... 

 

_ Oh gosh. Is this a date? _

 

Slightly frenzied, Bucky hurried to his room to change out of his casual shirt and into a slightly less casual button-up. It was blue, with a nice, small pattern, and he rolled the sleeves up just below his elbows, about mid-forearm. He changed his pants too, sliding on a neater pair of jeans. By the time he had finished setting the kitchen table with plates, glasses, and cutlery, the doorbell rang.

 

Bucky ran to open the door for Natasha, knowing that if he didn’t get there fast enough she’d let herself in. Which was only an issue because Bucky forever wanted to be the ‘perfect gentleman.’

 

“Hey,” Natasha greeted. “You’re a lot faster than Stark. I appreciate that.”

 

Bucky took the takeout bag from Natasha as she stepped through the doorway. She was wearing a light, black sundress and brown sandals. Her nails were painted bright red. 

 

“Please, I’d never leave you outside to face the elements alone.”

 

Natasha laughed. “I’m holding you to that. Next time we’re on some crazy mission in Siberia, you don’t get to relax by some fireplace while I freeze my butt off.”

 

Bucky closed the door. “But if I stay behind, I’ll be able to help you warm up faster after you finish.”

 

“Ooh,” Natasha said slowly, seriously considering what Bucky suggested. “You’re cute, you know that?”

 

Bucky only smirked and winked playfully before gesturing for Natasha to walk before him to the kitchen. 

 

Once they reached the room, Natasha stopped and stared at the table. Bucky froze too, thinking he had forgotten something important.

 

“James!” Natasha exclaimed delightfully. “This is so nice; I didn’t know you were doing this.”

 

Bucky exhaled the breath he had been holding.

 

“Yeah. Since we didn't go out to the actual restaurant, I wanted to make it a little fancy. Didn't want to enjoy such expensive food right out of the takeout containers.”

 

Natasha turned to take the bag of food from Bucky. “Well, it looks great. Thank you.”

 

Bucky smiled softly in response and began to help Natasha take the food out of the bag. Once each of them had plated their dinners, Bucky filled their glasses with water and the two began to dine. 

 

Sam had not been exaggerating when he'd told Natasha the mezzaluna was good. It was beyond good, so delicious that Bucky didn't know how to describe the meal to do it justice. But, as good as it was, he couldn't finish it. It wasn't that the sauce became too rich after a while, or that there was so much cheese he started to feel sick. Bucky just couldn't bring himself to eat more than several bites. 

 

Natasha noticed towards the end of dinner, when she had eaten all she could of her linguini dish and Bucky had taken the same amount of time to work through just half of his meal. 

 

“James.”

 

Bucky was staring at the ice in his glass, not registering Natasha's voice. 

 

Natasha repeated his name. This time, he looked up. 

 

“What? Sorry.”

 

“It's fine. Are you feeling alright?”

 

“Yeah. Just not hungry, that's all.”

 

Natasha said nothing, thinking it best to just play along. She noted his dejected tone, and realized it was similar to how he sounded earlier on the phone, when he had declined to go out to eat.

 

She tried to distract him. “Hey, I know you’re not hungry, but Giada’s isn't too far from here, and I know you like their gelato.”

 

Bucky was hesitant. “Umm, I don’t know, Natasha.”

 

“C’mon, you’re never one to turn down their rocky road.”

 

Truthfully, Bucky didn’t feel like leaving his apartment. But he knew he’d enjoy eating gelato, especially with Natasha. Plus, Steve had been urging him to spend more time outside his home. Bucky was still working on that. 

 

Bucky could tell Natasha was trying to cheer him up. She had obviously sensed his depressed mood. Or state. Whatever cycle of lowness he was in again. She’d done so earlier over the phone. Bucky didn’t want to make this evening any gloomier for her, so he agreed to go out. If only for gelato. 

 

As it turns out, Bucky ended up loving the time spent at Giada’s. From the moment they entered the shop, when the sweet smell of freshly made cones and the aroma of juicy fruits and sticky syrups overwhelmed them, to the time they got back in Natasha’s car, he felt relaxed and almost normal. Like a civilian. It was fun to pretend.

 

“Knew you’d appreciate that,” Nat said as she drove them back to Bucky’s apartment.

 

Bucky, in the passenger seat next to her, huffed. “Well, you just happen to know I’m a sucker for sweets. It’s a weakness of mine.”

 

“Oh, I’m glad you’ve got a sweet tooth. It means I can persuade you to do most anything if I promise you something with chocolate in it.”

 

“Okay, but chocolate is great. Why do you always go for the fruity flavors? You got peach, Natasha. Peach gelato. You should stick with the good stuff when you get ice cream.”

 

“Peach  _ is _ good!”

 

The playful banter continued for the remainder of the car ride, both Bucky and Natasha teasing the other about their flavor preferences.

 

Upon reaching home, both Bucky and Natasha took showers--Bucky in his own and Natasha in the guest bathroom. It was a little after 9 when Natasha came to sit next to James on his couch in the living room, her hair damp and a silk robe covering her, its sash tied and lazily resting against her hip. 

 

“There’s not really anything on TV,” Bucky said as he turned his head to look Natasha in the face.

 

“Woah,” he breathed.

 

Natasha laughed. “What is it?”

 

“You’re gorgeous.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“Yeah, really gorgeous.”

 

James tossed the remote to the side and turned his whole body so he was sitting sideways on his couch. He propped his left arm up on the back of the couch and leaned his head against his closed fist. He looked at Natasha with mirth. 

 

“Where’d your robe come from? Did you bring it with you?”

 

“No, silly, It’s here from last Friday.”

 

“Oh. Ha, I forgot about that.”

 

“You forgot? About how you ripped this off of me?”

 

“I did. It looks like we’ll have to do it again. To jog my memory.”

 

Natasha could feel herself blushing, and she couldn’t hold back a wide smile.

 

“Why do you always do this to me?”

 

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “Do what?”

 

“Make me blush.”

 

“Because I love you. And...because you’re even prettier when you blush. Unbelievably beautiful.”

 

Natasha leaned forward to give Bucky a kiss. A brief but passionate touching of lips. 

 

“You know, Barnes, if you want this to go any further, we should take it somewhere else.”

 

“Isn’t it a little early?”

 

“Just gives us more time.”

 

Bucky weighed his options. “Well, we could go now, or I could make you wait a bit, build up the excitement.”

 

“Do you honestly want to wait?” Natasha asked, lips in a smirk and eyebrow raised questioningly.

 

Bucky smirked back. “Honestly? No, not at all.”

  
Slowly, the two got off the couch together, each trying to convey the sense that they weren't pining as much as the other. They walked towards the bedroom together, hand-in-hand, and closed the door behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Buckynat fic (though I have plenty more planned). I hope you've enjoyed it so far, and if you have, please leave a kudos and/or comments! They are always appreciated, as are opinions and criticisms. Thank you for reading!


End file.
